


all i ever dreamed

by taxingme



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Shower Sex, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-19 05:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14230437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taxingme/pseuds/taxingme
Summary: All he can think is oh. Because that’s, that’s not very subtle. Brandon only knows of one Zdeno and Brandon just got drafted to his team. His captain is his soul mate





	all i ever dreamed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookhousegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookhousegirl/gifts).
  * Inspired by [the day's beginning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10900140) by [bookhousegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookhousegirl/pseuds/bookhousegirl). 



> Thanks for offering up such a fun and unique fic!! I hope you enjoy reading what I've done for this :)))
> 
> I've never done a remix before but I had a blast doing it so hopefully, I did it right! The original story has such a wonderful vibe and I tried to bring that across here. This works as a stand-alone but I'd highly recommend reading the original, it's such a wonderful story and this (duh) wouldn't exist without it.  
> This idea of soulmarks is based off [this](https://thesinbin.dreamwidth.org/1580.html?thread=1765676) (very) old sinbin prompt that I've had bookmarked since before I even actually wrote in this fandom.... glad i finally got to it lmao (FYI - k*ne is mentioned in the comment so you're warned). Z's mark is based off [this](https://www.instagram.com/p/BeGhtsElUwb/?taken-by=flowsofly) nsfw pic - highly recommend having a look at their insta, their art is absolutely stunning.

Brandon’s mark comes in during the draft. 

His skin pulls tight and itches as they call his name and he’s nervous enough that he dismisses it entirely. He notices it later that night, a black smudge on his wrist that doesn’t come off in the shower. His stomach curls and it is embarrassing how long it takes him to realise. This is his soul mark. Brandon absently scratches as he stares, his eyes so focussed on it that he can longer see it. He’s not sure how long he stares at the smudge before he notices that it’s changed – thin, black letters emerging and forming in the smudge.

**ZDENO  
38.6247° N, 90.1848° W  
0938**

All he can think is oh. Because that’s, that’s not very subtle. Brandon only knows of one Zdeno and Brandon just got drafted to his team. His _captain_ is his _soul mate_. He feels a flurry of emotions at the thought: surprise, intrigue, confusion, desire, lust, want and loneliness. Right now, Zdeno – Chara? Z? – seems so far away.

He rubs his thumb over the mark. His skin is still tender and itchy, and each character is raised, a slight bump in his skin like an old scar. Brandon knows that will go away in time. When he was a kid he would always run his fingers along his mother’s mark – the weeping willow under which they met. He was fascinated then and he still is now. Marks are sacred, precious things and a small part of Brandon can’t believe he has his own. Someone out there that is meant for him. 

And that someone, is Zdeno Chara. 

***

Brandon chokes on nothing when he sees Z’s tattoo the first time. It’s after a scrimmage, the first time they’ve been paired together, and Brandon is listening as Z tells him where he did good and where he can improve. Z strips his chest pads and pulls them up over his head, revealing his pale skin and defined ribs. Brandon’s eyes are drawn to the flash of black on his side, an image on his rib cage under his arm. Heat flushes his face and Brandon has to look away.

The mark itself is quite simple. Thin, black lines that make up two people. There’s no colour or fine details – just simple lines that surprisingly twist and form the shape of two people fucking. Because that’s what it is. No denying it. Brandon only got a flash of it, but it was clear as day, a barely there drawing of one person being held up against a wall, and one person behind them. 

Brandon feels the same pull in his gut whenever he thinks about sex. Brandon swallows the urge down. There’s a time and a place to think about sex and the locker room isn’t it. Even if the universe has decided that _that picture_ is the best representation of how Brandon feels about Z.

He keeps his own mark covered. A simple guard that hides who his person he is, it’s hard enough being the rookie let alone the rookie who is soul mates with the captain. Or so Brandon assumes. Z never treats him like a rookie, or he does, showing him the way to do things on the ice and telling him the best things to do and see in Boston. Brandon can’t help the blush that rises when Z gives him special attention. He cherishes it. Especially because he knows Z doesn’t know – not about the soul marks, his own (thankfully) doesn’t have Brandon’s name – and is just being nice because that’s who he is. 

Brandon listens to all the guys, they know more than he even thinks to ask about. Bergy tells him the best ways to learn the city, the back way to the arena and the best ways to avoid traffic; Marchy shows him where all the good restaurants are and where he can get a cheap burger; Pasta gives him a crappy tour of all the bars that won’t card him. But it’s different with Z. 

For one, Brandon never doubts what Z says the way he does with Marchy and Pasta. Brandon still hasn’t forgiven Pasta for taking him to one of the nicest restaurants and fucking off when the bill came. Z would never do that. For another, Z has a quiet way of talking. He never raises his voice, except maybe on the ice, but he still demands so much respect. 

But he also listens to Brandon. He never just nods and says _hmm_ , he answers Brandon’s questions and asks his own. He asks Brandon about his draft day and mentions his own – “Oh, I was so nervous. So long ago now, hard to believe you felt the same all those years later.” He wants to know about the cities Brandon is excited to see, which ones Brandon has been thinking about the longest. He wants to know Brandon. 

Z is nice to him when no one else would be. He makes sure all guys are treated the same, none of the rookies or young guys are forced to do any dumb shit. He goes out of his way to make sure Brandon is all good. They sit together after bad games. If Brandon doesn’t want to talk – headphones in, hoodie up – Z leaves him alone; if Brandon does he makes sure to doll out praise and criticism in turn. 

It’s safe to say, Brandon has a crush. 

***

Brandon googled the coordinates on his wrist once. He saw that they were in St Louis before quickly exiting the browser. He wanted it to be a surprise more than he wanted to know. But still, his body is nervous when he wakes up in St Louis, a forgotten dream in the back of his throat. He’s going to the Arch early because, well, Z won’t come with him, so he needs time to meet him after. For whatever moment happens that joins them together. 

Brandon wants it to be special. 

If it’s even going to happen today. His mark doesn’t have a date and Brandon still hasn’t told Z about the mark and he doesn’t plan to do so right now. He’s restless as he showers. He assumes he’s just excited. He hadn’t had a chance on the last road trip to go see anything exciting and he’s been looking forward to the arch for a long time. And it’ll be even better with Pasta and Austin.

Except – 

“You’re not coming are you?” Pasta looks sheepish and throws a furtive look over his shoulder. Brandon rolls his eyes. Pasta has the door mostly shut, open enough to only reveal his shirtless torso and his messy bed head. Or sex hair. Brandon’s not entirely sure what Pasta and Krejc get up to. 

“It’s cold,” Pasta whines. Brandon just rolls his eyes again, trying not to get too pissed off. Pasta never comes, even when he promises that it won’t be like the last time. Brandon doesn’t even both waiting for the promise this time, walking off with a wave of his hand. He thinks about Pasta’s marks as he walks to Austin and Frankie’s room. He has them all over his arm, mismatched nonsense that doesn’t make sense to anyone but him. He explained some of them once to Brandon. A ping pong paddle for Nicklas Backstrom, a black rose for William Nylander, a stick figure drawing of the first girl he had a crush on. He didn’t show which one was for David. 

Brandon was smart enough not to ask.

Austin’s wearing a shirt when he opens the door but he’s definitely not going anywhere right now. Brandon sighs. Austin shrugs. Over his shoulder Brandon can see Frankie on one of the beds (the only one that’s obviously been slept in – they’re not trying to fool anyone about what they get up to). Frankie starts talking about all the food he wants to eat at breakfast and Austin mentions going to the pool.

“But I want to go the Arch now,” Brandon says, trying desperately not to sound like a whinging thirteen-year-old. Or like a teenager at all. 

Austin shrugs again, one shoulder this time like it’s not worth bothering with more. “I’ve been before, I was just going for you guys.” Back in the room Frankie is still waxing poetic about breakfast and Brandon gets it. Austin’s never going to say no to that. 

***

Brandon nervously glances at his watch when he gets to the entrance. 9:15. He doesn’t have enough time to do this and get back to the hotel to meet Z. He sighs. He knew there was no guarantee that it would be today but god, he really wanted it to be today. 

Someone taps him on the shoulder and Brandon neatly steps out of their way, too lost in his own swirling thoughts about Z to care who it is. Then they cough, and Brandon looks up. And he keeps looking up. It’s Z. 

“Oh – I. Sorry? I didn’t know you would come. I didn’t even think to ask,” Brandon says, blushing. 

Z smiles, soft and caring like always. “No, it’s okay. I haven’t done anything like this in a long time and today seemed like a good day.” 

Brandon makes another small noise as they wait for the tram. He’s not sure what to say. Brandon likes – loves? – Z and he wants them to have fun together. He wants Z to like him, to be impressed by him. To say _oh my Brandon, you’re so mature and you know just what to say to make my day_. Or something a little less pathetic. Brandon just wants this to work. 

“Have you been before?” Brandon asks as they squish into the tram. There’s too many people for it to be comfortable. Brandon glances at his watch – 9:25. He wonders how long the tram takes. He doesn’t want their moment to be in a tram car. 

“Once, a long time ago now. I have been around a long time, you know?” Z says, his lips twitching into a smile. Brandon smiles with him. He’s never been happier to have someone with him. 

Brandon’s not sure what to expect when he walks out onto the Arch proper. He’s expecting a good view, the city of St Louis spread out beneath him like nothing he’s ever seen before. He knows he’ll be able to see the river with all its bridges and the baseball stadium. He knows he’s going to see St Louis at its best. 

Everything looks different from six hundred thirty feet above the earth. 

“Wow.”

“It is something isn’t it? It hardly seems to have changed since I was up here.”

The two of them are pressed together to look out the same small, rectangular window. Their bodies are pressed together, shoulder to hip to thigh, and Brandon wishes it wasn’t so distracting. Z’s a lot more muscular than Brandon expects, which makes no sense because Brandon knows what his workout routine is like, he sees what Z does on the ice day in, day out. Brandon wants to feel those muscles against him. He glances at his watch again – 9:33 – and his stomach curls in anticipation. 

“It’s a totally different view up here. It’s exactly what I wanted to see – more, even,” Brandon says. “I can’t believe that I’m seeing this and that everything is still going on down there. It’s all the same but still so different.”

Z makes an agreeing noise, still looking out the window. “It’s good to see things from another point of view, up here you wouldn’t be able to see the differences between us.”

“There’s not much too see anyway.” 

Z hums again and Brandon can’t help looking one last time – 9:37. Brandon’s mark itches like it did at the draft. He undoes the cover. 

“That’s nice of you to say, Brandon. But really, there are a lot of differences. You’re not too young to miss them.”

“No, Z. I promise, we’re not that different – look.” Brandon taps him with his right hand and displays his mark proudly for Z to see. Brandon doesn’t look at it very often anymore but it’s exactly the same as he remembers – thin, black characters that don’t hide anything. He doesn’t have to look at his watch to know it’s 9:38; he doesn’t have to google the coordinates to know that he’s standing at them; he knows he doesn’t need to look for another Zdeno. This is their moment, just for them. 

“Oh.”

Z rubs his thumb over Brandon’s mark. Brandon remembers when it came in, the raised edges of the letters and wishes Z could have felt it like that too. Brandon’s fingers twitch towards Z’s hand. Z smiles and moves his hand, so their fingers twist together. Brandon’s heart races. It seems like such a childish thing, but he feels so grown up, he wanted to hold Z’s hand and now he is. Brandon looks out the window one last time, he’s hundreds of feet in the air and he’s never felt so grounded. He looks at Z. He takes in the lines around his mouth, the receding hair line and the depth and knowledge in his eyes. Brandon can’t imagine wanting anything else. 

A soft smile stretches across Z’s face. He turns and quickly presses a kiss above Brandon’s ear. He murmurs something in a different language. Brandon doesn’t understand but he wants to. Z untangles their fingers and Brandon has to resist the urge to follow his hand as it draws away. 

“Let’s get back to the hotel.” 

***

Brandon’s hand shakes as his fingers trail up Z’s ribs. He’s pale here in the way all guys are in the middle of winter and Brandon’s fingers stand out, as does his tattoo. Brandon traces the mark. Z gasps under the attention and Brandon swallows, thinking about and wondering if that’s what Z wants right now, if he wants Brandon to push him up against the wall and take. 

“Would you like to try?” Z murmurs. Brandon shudders, eyes closing as his fingernails dig into the mark. Z makes a small noise and Brandon knows absolutely, without a doubt, that they both want to. 

“Yes.”

Z takes Brandon’s hand, long fingers intertwining with his before leading him to the bathroom. “Here?” Brandon can’t help asking. Z only nods. Z nudges Brandon into motion, a hand placed in the small of his back, directing him to the shower. Brandon starts the water trying and failing to ignore the thrum of arousal he feels. He rests his head against the wall, the tiles cool under his face while the steam builds around him. 

He has no idea what he’s doing. 

Before he thinks about it too long the door opens behind him. Z steps in and it’s cramped, there’s not nearly enough room for this. Brandon doesn’t think this can work. Then – Z crowds in closer, presses a kiss into the back of Brandon’s neck. 

“Not that you don’t look amazing, but I think you want this the other way around, no?”

Brandon stops an inelegant snort before it comes out. He doesn’t want Z to laugh at him. He turns around to face him. Brandon lifts a hand up to Z’s face. His own tattoo stands out against his wrist and Brandon gets caught looking between he characters there and Z’s face. Like this, it’s impossible to miss the lines there. The proof that Z knows what he’s doing and has seen it all before. But there’s something else there too. A spark in his eyes or the way his lips twitch into an almost but not quite there smile.

Brandon’s never wanted anyone more. 

They rearrange themselves so Z is up against the wall. He lifts his arms up, crossing them at the wrists and leaning his forehead against them on the wall. It’s a beautiful picture and Brandon doesn’t resist the desire this time. He fixes one hand on Z’s hip and then focusses on opening Z up with the other. Z talks the whole time; he tells Brandon what feels good and how to make it better. There’s no shame or embarrassment in his voice, Z knows what he likes and he doesn’t hesitate to tell him. It’s nothing like the other times Brandon has done this, fumbling in the dark with people his own age. 

“I’m ready now, Brandon,” Z says after a while. Brandon groans and twists his fingers just to hear Z make a similar sound. “Now, please.”

Brandon steps out to put a condom on, wincing when it doesn’t roll down as smoothly as he’d like. He needs this to be good. For him and for Z. He shivers under the stream of water, leaning past Z to turn the water up. They don’t have much time. He presses in in inches, fighting to maintain control the whole time. Z murmurs praise and only stops when Brandon bottoms out. 

“You feel, _fuck_. You feel so good,” Brandon groans. Z makes an agreeable sound and arches his back, giving Brandon an ever better view of where they’re connected. Brandon’s hands map out his back, following drops of water down, down, down the curve of his back and then back up again to rub at his shoulders. Brandon keeps seeing his mark, the stark black ink of the letters obvious like this.

**ZDENO**

Brandon swears under his breath. He wants, needs to see Z’s, to know that this is what he’s been waiting for. “Here, turn, turn just a little – just so I can,” Brandon trails off and runs his fingers over Z’s ribs where he knows the mark is. Z lets out a breathless laugh before twisting his body and – _oh_. That’s all he has time to think before he massages his fingers into the mark for one, two, three seconds before thrusting in one last time and coming.

Brandon needs a minute to compose himself. His skin is flushed and he can’t tell if it’s from exertion or embarrassment. He sucks in a few deep breaths. “Shit, I’m sorry – turn around.” Z’s wearing a calm smile when he turns to face him, his own face flushed and his lip red and swollen from being bitten. Brandon swears again and leans in. 

Kissing Z is a breath of fresh air. There’s steam swelling all around them and Brandon can barely tell the difference between his own sweaty, wet limbs and Z’s. It’s perfect. He reaches down and wraps a hand around him. He feels Z mumble something against his lip but doesn’t stop to make it out. Z pulls back and repeats himself, telling Brandon “tighter, faster, _please_.” 

Brandon watches Z’s face as he comes; the way his features draw together against his will before relaxing in pleasure. Brandon washes his hand under the spray. Studiously watching it instead of looking at Z. He feels Z move around him, hears the tap squeak a little as he turns the water off and then he’s being ushered out of the shower. They towel dry in quiet and then they’re in bed. Z lies on his back and Brandon cuddles up under his arm. He throws his arm over Z and – not at all subtlety – scratches his fingers along where he knows Z’s mark is. His own mark isn’t visible like this, his wrist pressed up against Z’s ribs, but Z still brings his own hand up to rest his thumb on Brandon’s mark. 

“Go to sleep, Brandon.”

“Aye, aye cap’n,” Brandon says, a smile on his face. Z pinches Brandon’s mark and Brandon squirms in return.

“You’re lucky you’re cute. Now seriously, _sleep_.” 

Z presses a kiss to the top of Brandon’s head. Brandon swallows down a giddy laugh, still not sure that this is real, that this is actually his life. He can’t wait for tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> me, when i got this assignment: i'm never gonna write chara porn!  
> me, now: ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> thanks for reading and i'll add my [hockey tumblr](http://claude102pointsgiroux.tumblr.com/) after reveals <3


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